The Essence
by Sora Tsuiki
Summary: What would have happened if Oliver did surrender to Slade's mercy after his mother's death? What id Felicity and Diggle hadn't stopped him in time? AU after Seeing Red, Thea!centric


**So I promise I'm still working on my other Naruto fics (if anyone reading this is reading those), but I've just spent my last three hours bawling my eyes out at the Seeing Red episode of Arrow and couldn't even get through the entire episode after that without writing this. Arrow season two is ripping my heart out, and the only way I know how to fight back is write, so write I did. Basically, I started because I was frustrated with Thea, who I generally think is an OK character if not a little rigid at times, and wishing I could make her regret how she treats Oliver so I kinda... killed him off out of spite? yeeouch. I have a decent-ish plan with this, though if anyone wants to help me with it, I might need it!**

**Enjoy :)**

She knew. She knew as he was talking, as he was about to cry there, standing in front of her, that she wouldn't speak to him ever again despite saying she'd get in contact. She knew that he was going to do something stupid and reckless in his way of misguided, sick atonement. It was a feeling deep inside her chest that she pushed aside and ignored because she had been hurting so terribly that she just wanted to be numb and disregard the world around her. She didn't want to think, she didn't want to hurt, and so she didn't say anything to ease his pain.

She did nothing.

She did nothing but leave, not even a goodbye. Walking out of their home, walking onto the streets, and walking to the Glades to say goodbye to Sin and Verdant, she debated whether she had time to regret not saying those words, but brushed it off. She just had to get away, and he wasn't stopping her.

She had plenty of time to regret unsaid words the next morning.

They had found the body, lying in a pool of blood at the harbor with an arrow in his chest, green outfit and hood resting next to him with a bow and quiver in his hands. It only took one look at Laurel to confirm it. But as soon as the understanding flashed through her, she shut down. This was the second time, and now not even her mom was there. She had cried for hours, then screamed for more, then cried again.

She knew, deep inside, what he was going to do and she didn't stop him. She hadn't wanted to stop him. And now he was dead. Without Oliver, she truly was alone.

_B_R_E_A_K_

"Thea? Thea Queen?" the professor calls out, looking down at the computer on his desk with scrunched eyes. He shifts the glasses on his nose higher up before taking a quick scan of the room. No answer. "Thea Queen," he says again, this time with more force.

A low murmur runs across his students, but is silenced with a hard glare. Sighing, he moves to the next name to continue roll call.

It's taken longer that he originally though, seeing as it had been a little over a week since classes started, but finally someone raises their hand and asks, "Umm… Professor Chan? Should Ms. Queen still be in this class? She hasn't attended any and it's been eight days since semester began." The questioner is Andre Twist, a senior sitting in the second row to the front on the far left. He's only taking this class to finish his requirements. He had taken one of the professor's classes before and slept through most of it, hence the reason he needed to finish said requirement.

With another sigh and a brutal rubbing of his temple, Professor Weng Chan answers tiredly and with a hint of annoyance, "Ms. Queen has informed me that she had come down with the flu prior to the academic year and is more than likely still recovering, Mr. Twist. Now, if you spent more time reading through the given material instead of scouting for ladies…"

Students in the room chuckle and Andre's face reddens in embarrassment, sinking lower into his seat, as Professor Chan begins his lecture without flinching at the lie, he himself wondering where the orphaned heiress is instead of in his class. Again.

"As Aristotle once said, 'It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it,' and that is what we will focus on today…"

_B_R_E_A_K_

Sitting in rumpled silk pajamas and eating day old takeout, Thea idly pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. She pays little to no attention to the episode of Desperate Housewives on the television, instead caught up in the last time she had watched it. She was with her mom, spending the night with her after she had been hospitalized. Ollie had left to…

The girl flinches at the train of thought and chomps harshly into her food, clacking her teeth together in the middle. There is no such thing as Mom or Ollie anymore. No such thing as family.

Biting her lip, Thea sets her plate down on the small table before her with a clatter and grabs the remote, clicking the power button and blackening the screen before her. She cautiously raises the collar of her pajamas to her nose and sniffs, first tentatively then a long, deep breath in. Her eyes tear up and threaten to fall.

"Still smells like Mom," she murmurs softly, taking in the citrus scent of Diorella Perfume. It is her mom's favorite. _Was_, she corrects herself with a frown, adjusting herself on the couch only to jolt up in surprise as there is a sharp knock on her door.

"Just wait a sec," she croaks, standing and brushing crumbs off her person. Bundling her grown out hair into a messy pony tail, Thea pads her way through her apartment and to the door, taking a peek through the peep hole before groaning angrily. Opening the door in a slow and agonizing swing, she growls, "What are you doing here, Weng." It isn't much of a question as much as it is an accusation.

The middle-aged man takes the gruff words as an invitation, and pushes the door fully open to take a step into the room. Thea steps back warily, hastily wiping at her eyes and shooting him an annoyed glower all at once. Smiling blithely to reveal straight white teeth, the Chinese man ignored her words to instead admonishes, "Pajamas, Thea? It's three o'clock in the afternoon; most people are awake or going to _classes_ by now." The Queen heiress takes a moment to glance behind her and out a window to see bright sunlight and shrugs, crossing her arms. When she refocuses on her guest, he's already closed the door and placing his shiny black shoes onto the shoe rack nonchalantly, like he owned the place.

"Hey, you were not invited in!" Again the man ignores her words and instead allows his eyes to roam the area, taking in the multitude of takeout boxes and unwashed plates in the kitchen sink. Clothes are strewn around and lying on couches and chairs, some limply resting on the ground. He sighs.

"Speaking of which, Thea, you weren't in classes again today," he warns, stepping carefully to the couch Thea had previously been watching TV at. The girl doesn't even blush when Weng swipes at a bra and pushes it to the ground to sit.

No, she stomps over to stand in front of him so that he had to crane his neck upward to lock his eyes with hers. There she is, in dark violet silk pajamas, smoothly rustling at her knees, with her hair tied up into a greasy knot at the back of her head and puffy red eyes glaring down at the well-dressed man. Maybe one of the reasons she tries not to see Weng much is because he dresses so much like her brother, all sharp and well-refined.

She doesn't say a word, instead trying to burn a hole straight through her guest's head. He sighs a long and suffering sigh. "Thea, what would Walter say if he knew? If he saw you like this?" Weng Chan asks in a silent plead, brushing long and calloused fingers through his thick, well kempt hair. He feels like pulling the stands from their roots in frustration when Thea doesn't even flinch before him. So he tries again: "Thea, I promised Walter that I'd look after you and make sure you're ok, but I really don't think-"

"I don't want damn charity, Weng," Thea spits, tightening her grip on her own arms in fury. "Yours or his, you got it? If I did, I would have stayed in Starling City." Weng hesitates for a moment and attempts to open his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off. "I'm not going to classes. I can pay my own tuition if I want to go, thank you."

She says that, but they both know that Thea no longer has the funds to pay her college fees, let alone Hudson University's. With the loss of her family's hold on the company and her club, Thea's finances are all holed up in her Queen Consolidated shares she never sold and the belonging's Walter had kept for her back in Starling, a place she refuses to go to get them. Thea Queen, once a billionaire socialite eating from a silver spoon, is nigh broke, living the life of any average mortal and she knows it just as he knows it.

"He's just trying to look out for you, Thea," Weng tries again, slight Chinese accent slipping out with his anxiousness. A harsh frown is on his face, stern and unyielding. The exact opposite of his pleading voice, but Thea doesn't change. "You're his family, Thea, you're-"

"My family is dead," she barks, bristling even more. Her face is white with pallor and drawn with lack of sleep. Her eyes are wide with fear and pain and sadness. Her whole body is jittery, fight or flight taking in and flight seems to be winning.

Weng's frown deepens. They stay there in silence for a few minutes, staring each other down while basking in the natural light from the windows, sun far from setting. They'd had this talk quite a few times before, ever since Thea realized she hadn't in fact gotten a full ride to New Carthage's Hudson University, but that it was actually paid in full by Walter Steele.

"It's been a year, Thea," he whispers, watching as her eyes flash in warning and her face tenses in restraint. "Let someone help you." Now, now she flinches, and for a brief moment her face looks stricken and the university professor regrets his words. But in the same moment the flash is gone and Thea's face is set to stone. If he didn't know what she had gone through, Weng would have chalked it up to a trick of the lighting.

After a second, the girl breaks their eye contact to march to the kitchen indignantly, scoffing at his words. She doesn't throw a look behind her nor does she say anything, and for a bit Weng is unsure of what to do. But then he hears shuffling and the hum of a microwave. He smiles when he hears her curse at what he knows is a jammed door to a cabinet. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to fix it almost a year prior.

It has been a year, a year since Thea had driven into New Carthage, New York with nothing but a suitcase, tear-ridden eyes, and an ever boiling anger. She was callous and rude, but because Walter Steele had called him and asked a favor—"Please, Weng, look after my dear Thea for me, as she won't let me do it"—Weng quickly found himself helping the girl pick out a cheap apartment and showing her around. She didn't say a word to him though it was obvious to everyone and him that Thea just wanted him to leave her alone, and at first he was affronted by the notion. After all, there he was, taking time out of his schedule to welcome her and help her, and the only words she threw at him were scalding.

But it didn't take long for him to understand that she was just trying to protect herself, and eventually she calmed down just enough to be a little pleasant.

She hadn't minded his presence all that much back then, when he'd take her to coffee a few times a month to check up on her discretely, be the father that Walter wanted to be but couldn't. That was before Thea confided in him that she was going to apply to Hudson, and before he told Walter about it. Now it is as if they are back to the first few weeks they knew each other.

Weng looks around the apartment again sadly. The girl truly isn't taking very good care of herself. The only remotely clean area in the room was the side table, in front of the bay window letting in the light. A singular chair rested by it, and what is on the table perfectly explained why it stuck out as the clean sore thumb. A picture frame stands bravely atop the glass surface, dust coating it and the table as if they hadn't been touched since Thea moved in. They probably hadn't, Weng realizes, staring into the joyous faces of the Queen family. Robert, Oliver, Moira, and her, Thea, all grinning at him. Even Walter had a small photo at the frame's corner. Behind that frame, Weng knows from helping the reluctant girl move in, is a pointed rock with symbols. A rock Thea refused to talk about.

A bright ping from the kitchen snaps his head up and he smiles warmly. Thea is walking back towards him with two steaming cups, though her scowl and anger are still in place.

"Mother would murder me if I didn't at least offer," she murmurs as defense, throat thick and hoarse with deeply buried memories. She purposefully averts her eyes. "And I know if I'd offered the answer would be 'yes.'"

Weng wipes a finger under his nose to scratch at the small mustache there as his smile widens. Black with two sugars, just how he likes it. With a warm thank you, the man reaches for his cup and brings it to his mouth reverently, this time the sigh escaping his mouth one of contentment.

His pseudo-ward settles in next to him with her own beverage: coffee with cream and extra sugar. His nose scrunches at the sight, never knowing how the girl dealt with what he considered blasphemy. Thea must've noticed the grimace because she smiled, that light, nervous smile that timidly rested on her face as if it would be chased away any moment. But her shoulders are still tense, her entire body coiled with stress, and her eyes teeming with a kaleidoscope of emotion.

When she opens her mouth after a couple minutes, Weng knows exactly what she's going to say: "Dojo?"

His smile only widens, and he nods, allowing the girl to rudely gulp down her coffee and walk to her room. When she comes out, Thea's wearing deep blue running shorts and a tight fitting tank top. Striding back towards Weng's seated figure, she at the very least attempt to hide her impatience by methodically wrapping her knuckles with cloth, silently glowering at his still not empty cup.

Weng feels her presence, lurking behind him, and politely finishes off the drink before happily saying, "Lead the way, Ms. Queen."

**Very short chapter, I know, but I wanted to get this out to vent my frustrations... I'm saying now, almost no character will be a complete OC so there'll be a lot of cameo appearances (though I'll be changing personalities, affiliations, everything from the DC universe). Can you find the cameos in this one? :D**

**I hope you guys like it... tell me if I should continue and tell me some ideas :) I could always use some spitballing!**

**R&R if you want (please!)**

**Koby Out!**


End file.
